


Where you are (Is where I want to be)

by SecondaryGhost



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Teleportation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 05:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10960605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondaryGhost/pseuds/SecondaryGhost
Summary: When Carmilla is dropped into Laura's living room out of thin air, Laura is transported, somewhat accidently, to another country by means of teleportation. Between traveling to more than six counties a day and being hunted by a underground organisation soon becomes the new life of Laura Hollis. Can she leave her own life behind for the chance to experience the countries she would have never been able to visit or will the risks involved keep her from having the adventure of a life time?





	1. But you brought me here (And I'm happy that you did)

**Author's Note:**

> Carmilla is a teleporter. 'Nuff said.

“Fuck me”

If used in a more enjoyable manner, this phrase proves to be more fun than William and JP fighting over who was born first. However, Carmilla finds herself tripping over what seems to be a bar stool, in the middle of the day, in someone’s apartment instead of enjoying the warm embrace of her bed as it slowly accepts her as one of its own. The bed where she was a few moments prior to falling flat on her face.

The sun’s rays break through the window and shimmer against her ghostly skin. Its warmth burns her down to the bone, the ice slowly melts from her veins. The tingling sensation left on her skin by her travel slowly fades as she gently picks up the fallen bar stool.

A quick glance at the digital clock in the open plan kitchen informs Carmilla of the current time as being exactly two in the afternoon. Judging by the lack of sound in the small apartment, Carmilla safely assumes that its inhabitant (or inhabitants) are not in the immediate vicinity. After concluding this fact, Carmilla breathes out a small sigh of relief and grabs an apple from the metal basket on the counter top.

The apartment is awfully bright with the couch, being a loud yellow, contrasting the violent purple throw pillows laid lavishly on it. A mahogany table rests on a red rug in front of the monstrosity with three small perfectly polished cacti centrepieces near its centre, somewhat skewed to the right. A bookshelf replaces the suggested position for a television, with the Harry Potter series occupying most of the top shelf.

Carmilla falls onto the horrendous couch and props her feet up onto the coffee table. Taking a bite of her apple, she checks her watch to see that it reads around 8pm. Carmilla allows herself a few peaceful moments before she sighs heavily and slowly rises from the couch. She pulls out her phone to snap a picture of the ugly couch, saving the memory for her wall. She takes another bite out of her apple and closes her eyes.

A faint pop is heard and Carmilla vanishes. Her entire presence is simply gone, along with her apple. The apartment is left standing as it was before Carmilla was rudely thrown into a bar stool at 8pm with the sun burning her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Laura swings open the door to her apartment before kicking off her shoes. The sun slowly sets behind the apartment building across from Laura’s window, the warm glow creates a halo around the building. Laura sets her keys on the marble counter top of her kitchen and briskly walks to close her curtains. The amber glow illuminates her face and Laura has to shield her eyes.

After she pulls the curtains closed, preventing any individual visual access into her apartment, she shimmies out of her pants with haste. When her left foot finally frees itself from the clutches of her jeans, Laura lets out a guttural moan at the feeling of freedom.

Laura gently picks up her jeans off the floor and begins folding them on her way to the bedroom. She avoids knocking into her coffee table, as she has done so many times before, and enters her bedroom with no less than six long strides. When Laura returns to her living area, now clad in a loose shirt and sweats, she reaches to grab an apple from her fruit basket but her hand grabs aimlessly at air.

With a furrowed brow, Laura examines her fruit basket. She had placed five apples in it when she left for work. Four green apples gleam up at Laura, who shrugs, and she simply picks up an apple.

Laura works as the personal assistant to the Editor-in-Chief of Silas, a large magazine franchise with more stores than employees over 50. She hates her job, that is evident, but it pays for her apartment on the nicer side of town. It also gives her the inside scoop to the latest news and gossip, so that’s a plus. Her friend Betty convinced her to take the job back when they were still attending University together.

Worst. Decision. Ever.

Laura grabs a book from her bookshelf and takes a bite of the apple. She sets herself down on her couch, makes herself comfortable and begins to read The Hunger Games for the third time in a row. She allows herself to be pulled into the world of Panem and time slowly ticks by.

When her watch’s hands tick past the 9 o’clock mark, Laura gets ready for bed. The digital clock in the kitchen informs her of the same thing when she goes to check the lock on the front door. She rattles the door to make sure of its presumed state and she returns to her bedroom when she is convinced the door is secure.

After brushing her teeth, Laura wanders into her bedroom and falls, face first, into the soft white bed sheets. She closes her eyes and allows sleep to consume her.

 

* * *

 

 

Laura wakes to the sound of a metallic clang and the sound of tennis balls crashing to the floor. She reaches over to her beside lamp and flicks it on. Her alarm clock tells her that it is a little past 2 in the morning and Laura wants to scream. She has a busy day today and the last thing she needs is another cat lounging around in her apartment.

Through her door, Laura can see into her living room and the start to her kitchen. A figure lies on the floor, clutching their wrist and Laura can hear them cursing profusely. The figure tries to stand but they fail and fall back down.

Slightly panicked, Laura swings her legs out of her bed and she reaches for her day-of-the-week bear spray. She slowly gets out of bed and tiptoes to where her bedroom door used to be before Laura decided its position was unnecessary and bothersome.

_Good going genius_.

She holds the bear spray in front of her and she aims at the figure as she slowly approaches them.

“I’m warning you! I am armed! Get up, _slowly_!” The figure freezes at the sound of her voice. They turn to face Laura, the darkness shrouds them and keeps their face hidden. Laura can hear them laugh but they raise both arms into the air.

Laura can make out the silhouettes of her apples lying on her wooden floor. _I’ll wash them, they should be fine_. The figure seems to notice her shift of focus and they move to pick the apple singularly lying by their feet, but a jolt of pain stops them and they groan.

“Listen, Cupcake, my hand hurts really badly okay? I promise that I will explain everything but I just need a bag of ice or frozen vegetables.” A female voice husks out.

“Err, right. Sorry. Holy fudge sticks are you hurt? Yeah, let me get you some ice.” Laura flips the lights on only to be met with a strange sight. A woman, perhaps a few years her senior, sits on her wooden floor. Her wet dark hair sticks to her face and her clothes hug her body, it looks like she ran through rain. She smiles warmly at Laura and thanks her, before she slowly stands up.

Laura is digging through her freezer when she hears the air around her fizz and then pop. She turns around quickly to find the young woman gone. Laura begins to think she imagined the whole thing as some sort of lucid dream but on closer inspection she finds a small clue of the woman’s sudden appearance in her apartment.

A small puddle of water shines in the fluorescent light.

 

 

 


	2. I'm underwater (With no air in my lungs)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We sit on a beach, in the heat, with sand on our feet and in Carmilla's crisp white sheets.

Carmilla is woken by the frantic ticking of her alarm clock. Its haste breaks the rhythm of her dream and Carmilla abruptly thrown into reality. The sun kisses the coastal shore line of Mozambique and the champagne sky is alive with washes of subdued pinks and oranges. The burning ball of gas ascends into the sky as Carmilla crawls out of her crisp white sheets.

The bedding matches the white sand beaches that await Carmilla outside her front door. The humidity hangs in the door way and peels at the paint of the wooden fixture she dwells in from time to time. Sand covers the entrance-way to her chalet and it flows in with the hot breeze.

Carmilla grabs a water from the fridge and decides to take a walk on the beach, with a pair of sandals in hand. The sand warms the soles of her feet as she walks and the water laps at her heels. The smell of salt water and the sounds of waves crashing absorb Carmilla and she allows her mind to go blank.

The memory of the previous night flood her mind. The image of the ugly yellow couch and the cute girl with the softest hair Carmilla has ever seen. Hair so soft that Carmilla swears she knows what it’s like to run her hands through it, even though she’s never had the pleasure.

Golden sunshine, the only words accurate enough to describe it. The same kind of sunshine that Carmilla is gifted with during her stay in this little patch of heaven. The salty sands, warm weather and caramel skinned girls is everything this place offers and Carmilla has been staying here for a while.

A group of girls stagger past Carmilla with a group of boys whistling after them. The girls giggle and turn to the boys to blow kisses at the boys. They are possibly the same age as Carmilla, probably on break from their ‘busy’ schedule and collage.

Carmilla never had the ability to finish high school and she never had the ability to attend college. Not that it had ever bothered the young woman. She has the ability to travel around the world for free, why should she be concerned about tertiary education?

The sun has now risen above Carmilla’s head when she makes it to the small gathering of market stalls along the beach. Many people gather around the various stalls that litter the beach front, the chatter from the buyers is loud enough to attract any passer-by to investigate the commotion.

Carmilla approaches one stall. A bright display of colourful beads and the scent of fresh bread draws Carmilla closer. An old man sees her approaching and whistles through the large gap between his front teeth.

“Carmilla,” His accent butchers her name, “It’s good to see you. Fresh baked goods, just for you. I give you discount, yes?”

“Do you have creampuffs?”

The man turns to his assistant behind the stall, the small boy nods. “Yes. Only for you.”

“I’ll take 4 filled creampuffs, Marco.”

The old man nods to the small boy and the child grabs a brown bag from a drawer in the stall and begins filling it with creampuffs. His small hands shake and his eyes rest heavily.

“You okay there, Salvador?” Carmilla asks the small boy. He nods quickly.

“The boy has been having trouble sleeping. His mind keeps him awake at night,” The old man informs her. Carmilla nods in understanding.

Salvador is the eldest child, being only 11, from a family of seven children. Carmilla has grown to know him and Marco over the years she has lived in Mozambique. He often helps Carmilla fix her chalet up to make it more homely and, in return, she teaches him how to read.

“You’re reading at night aren’t you?”

Salvador stops packing the baked goods. He raises his head but avoids looking Carmilla in the eye, he nods shyly.

Marco laughs. He shakes his head and ruffles the young boy’s hair.

“You see! You have taught him a bad thing, Carmilla. Look at me, I can’t read yet I am a successful businessman.”

Marco gestures to his stall. Marco is the owner of a bakery close to the beach, Carmilla had worked for him when she found herself thrown into the white sand of the coastal beach after an unsuccessful travel five years ago. Sixteen year old Carmilla was taken in by Marco and his wife, Maria, when they found her on the beach covered in bruises and bloody clothes.

Salvador hands Carmilla the brown bag with her pastries and waves goodbye. Carmilla waves goodbye and hands Marco the cash for the treats but he refuses.

“It’s on the house, see you soon!” He laughs wholeheartedly and beams at Carmilla with missing teeth. Carmilla thanks him and returns his smile.

She makes it home just before the sun sinks behind trees. Along the way home, Carmilla stopped to pick up some groceries and a new book for Salvador. Carmilla feels he will finish Alice in Wonderland before she gets back from Paris with his new book. She places the groceries and the book, The Chronicles of Narnia, on a nearby counter before she throws off her sandals and falls into her bed.

The white sheets smell of salt and Carmilla buries her nose deep in the fabric. The sound of her bedside clock ticking lulls her into a lucid state and Carmilla feels the air grow static around her. She grips the sheet and thinks about the Jacaranda trees of South Africa, hoping to land there when she inevitably travels. The air pops and the thought of the ugly couch slips in before she can stop it. Carmilla disappears a moment later and leaves an indent in her sheets of where her body once rested.

 

* * *

 

Laura sits cuddled up on her couch in the late hours of the morning.

Her coffee has become cold while it sat waiting on the coffee table in front of her. She stares blankly at the bookshelf as she recalls the events from last night. The puddle of water still lies stagnant on the floor.

Laura is convinced the girl was a dream and she spilled water onto the floor when she was sleep walking. Yes, perfectly sound logic. Laura raises the cold coffee to her lips and takes a small sip of the black liquid. The taste makes her inwardly cringe.

She feels the air around her become electrified. The static air makes the hairs on her arms stand as the air pops in her ears. The air around her becomes humid and hot, as if she was sitting on the beach and enjoying the rays of the sun. The salty sea breeze hits her first before the body of a woman does.

The ugly yellow couch buckles under the newly added weight and Laura fears it won’t be able to support the extra body. The body struggles to untangle itself from her limbs and, as a result from the frantic squirming, it collapses to the floor with a thud.

The woman groans. Her hand clutches her side as she rolls to face Laura. The smaller girl is still in the position from before with her hand gripping the ugly couches arm rests and her eyes widened with panic. Laura grabs a vase from a nearby surface and raises it in defence.

“Who are you?!” Laura’s voice cracks under the strain. The woman hands are automatically lifted in the air as she tries to calm down the vase-wielding woman.

“The name’s Carmilla, please put the vase down creampuff.”

 

 


End file.
